


Scene From A Vacation

by Elayna



Category: Lucifer (TV), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crossover, Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25457827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/pseuds/Elayna
Summary: Lucifer loves to encourage people to tell him their deepest desires.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 25
Kudos: 95





	Scene From A Vacation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChelleToo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleToo/gifts).



> Technically, the years of the two television shows don't match, as this fic should be set in 2010 for the SGA 'verse, soon after the series finale, and 2016 for Lucifer's, before the pilot. La la la hand wave. I'm captivated by the devil and wanted to write him, and I'm compelled to keep returning to John and Rodney. 
> 
> For ChelleToo, who tells me Lucifer is an excellent show every time I see her. I believe her now and thank her for hooking me on it. Socially distanced air kisses to Seaward for the betaing and helpfulness.

To his surprise, Lucifer Morningstar discovered that he positively loved living among humans. 

Admittedly, he already knew humans well, as tempting and tormenting them had been his whole life since his dear old dad had tossed him out of Heaven. Still, when he'd decided to take a vacation from Hell and live among humans for a while, he hadn't expected that they'd be so endlessly fascinating on a daily basis. Being around the great mass of humanity in Los Angeles, truly experiencing the variety and complexity of human emotions and interactions, was a delightfully intriguing change after so many hundreds of years spent making deals and listening to screams of agony. 

The predictability of humans did occasionally disappoint him. Those who claimed to be obsessed with morality were often the most corrupt and hypocritical, especially the devoted 'churchgoers.' The 'law and order' types were always willing to break any rules if it was to their benefit, firm in their conviction that they were too good for the rules. 

Running a nightclub had been an inspired choice for Lucifer's vacation, as it brought humans directly to him. Lux was crowded with its normal type of clientele, desperate for noise and distraction from their lives, seeking booze and sex. Perhaps that was why the party of six stood out to Lucifer, they seemed a little detached from the other people, as if they had bigger concerns than the normal humdrum nonsense of living. They were a bit older than the usual crowd, in their 30s or 40s rather than 20s, and while mostly reasonably dressed for a nightclub, the men weren't wearing trousers tight enough to show the outline of their dicks, and the women's necklines didn't plunge to their navels. 

Shame, really. Lucifer was rather fond of both of those styles.

"Hello, there. I'm Lucifer Morningstar," he said, stopping in front of their booth. Only four of them were still seated, the two younger women dancing together. The blonde had tried to get one of the men to dance, but he'd refused, so she'd grabbed the other young woman and dragged her off. Why were men so reluctant to gyrate with women to a pounding beat? Male humans could be astonishingly stupid. 

The one that the blonde had tried to make dance, he of the slightly receding hairline but beautiful blue eyes, obviously recognized the name, giving him a bemused look. "Lucifer Morningstar?" 

"Yes, I'm the owner here." 

"You know the name?" the biggest man asked his friend, his body already tensing, as if needing to spring into action. Curious. Lucifer pegged him as a soldier, though his hair was not a style most militaries allowed and the tattoos were unusual. Mercenary? Still, very hot, and his leather pants were pleasingly tight.

"Lucifer Morningstar is one of the names of the Christian Satan," the remaining woman said. She was a cool beauty who picked her words carefully, like religion was something she'd been told about but didn't fully comprehend.

Curiouser and curiouser. The three who had spoken did have slight non-American accents, so faint that many wouldn't catch it. Usually anyone who knew English that well recognized his name. "Yes, Lucifer Morningstar, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, old Scratch—I go by many names." 

Blue eyes gave a snort. 

"You don't believe me?" 

"If I believed in the Bible, I wouldn't expect the devil to hang around a nightclub. Well,"—he paused for a moment—"or perhaps I would. It does seem an appropriate place to find people to tempt. I wouldn't expect a fallen angel to be English though."

Canadian maybe? "And why shouldn't the devil be English? For all their reputations as sticklers of propriety, the English have done some very naughty things. Believe me, the devil fits in with the English as well as any nationality." So sue him, he just liked the accent. He had no idea why Maze and his brother Amenadiel chose to sound American, that accent was so dull. 

"Is there a problem?" the last man asked, apparently paying more attention to the fact that Lucifer was the owner than his satanic status. By his accent, he was the only one of the group who was American. Something about his body language said military too, though the cowlicks couldn't be regulation. If he was military, Lucifer wondered what he'd looked like as a young man with a buzzcut. Probably adorable and very hot. 

The Canadian looked relaxed, absorbed in scarfing down potato skins and chicken wings as they talked, but the other three were oddly tense for patrons of a nightclub. They needed more booze and to get laid. With each other would be very attractive in Lucifer's opinion. "No, no problem, of course not. I like to make sure that my clients are enjoying themselves."

"We are, thanks," the American said dismissively, with a genial smile that didn't make it to his green eyes. 

"I do always wonder, if you don't mind telling me, what brought you to my establishment? Market research, you know. I'd be happy to cover a round of drinks." He glanced over at Maze at the bar, giving her a jerk of his head. "There, it's all covered. She'll bring you another round free." The two men who seemed military had beers, while the other drinks on the table were all cocktails. Maze would know what to bring; she always kept track of everything happening around Lucifer. The devil's torturer was dedicated to protecting him. 

"There's not much to say," the American said, clearly the leader of the group. "We're in town for some work meetings and the concierge at the hotel recommended this place for a few drinks." 

"Let me guess, you're staying at the Residential? Dickie?" The Residential offered the best rates for the military and the desk clerk recommended Lux to everyone, trying to curry favor with Lucifer. As the American nodded, Lucifer continued, "And where are you from?" 

"We came down from San Francisco." 

"But you—" Lucifer pointed to the Canadian, "are very definitely Canadian, and you are American, East Coast I would guess, but you two"—he pointed at the cool beauty and leather pants—"I cannot place your accents. Definitely not American." 

"They're Americans now. They got their citizenship last week," the American said shortly. 

Usually people found Lucifer's chatting entertaining. After all, he was a master of tempting people; it was his job. This fellow was only finding Lucifer's charm irritating, which was extremely disconcerting. "Last question, what do you desire?" 

"What do we desire?" The Canadian gave another snort. "We're in a nightclub; isn't everyone supposed to be desiring sex and booze?" He blushed a bit then, as if not quite accustomed to talking about sex and booze in front of these people who appeared to be friends. They were a strange little group, and Lucifer was determined to put a crack in their collective demeanor. 

"You'd be surprised at what people desire, in the deepest darkest part of their hearts. But they tell me. There's something about me that brings out that honesty in people. Like you," he said, switching to leather pants, "what do you desire?" He smiled at the man, turning on his charm that compelled people to reveal their secrets. 

"I want my family back. I want them alive. But I can't have that, so I'll take killing every single Wraith. With my bare hands if I have to. Every single one." His voice was husky, and Lucifer firmly believed that this man would carry out that desire if he could, no matter how bloody he became or how long it took. Lucifer shivered, loving the ruthlessness. 

The Canadian and the woman looked shocked at the man's sudden intensity, the Canadian giving a surprised, "Ronon!" The woman placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed in sympathy. 

"The Wraith are a code name for a paramilitary group," the American said quickly. "They attacked Ronon's family." 

Definitely the leader, more focused on what his comrade had revealed than his emotions. And no, the Wraith were not a paramilitary group, no wonder these people were so interesting. Lucifer smiled sympathetically as if he accepted the explanation. His father's non-Earthly creations were not his concern. "I'm so sorry," he oozed. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." 

"I want fame," the Canadian offered, with the nervousness of someone who is trying to draw attention to himself to distract from someone else. He was a good friend. "I want to win a Nobel prize for my advances in astrophysics. And I will." 

How cute. "I'm sure you will," Lucifer purred, "but that's not really your deepest, darkest desire, it is? Not the desire of your heart? Not the thing you cherish and crave the most. A gold medallion could never fulfill what you most want, could it?"

The Canadian was staring at him, fascinated, and Lucifer could see the look in his eyes. The man needed to tell his truth. He wanted to bare his soul. It was Lucifer's secret superpower, and it was so easy to use on mortals. "I want John," the Canadian blurted out. "I've wanted him since I first saw him, and I've wanted him every moment since. He's protected me and saved my life more times than I can count. He's the best friend I've ever had, and I love him."

Yes, that was it. Lucifer always recognized a human's deepest, darkest desire. Who was John? If he was the American, Rodney had good taste. "But what about the blonde? You two are dating, aren't you?" 

"I don't want to die alone. I don't want my sister to nag me because I don't have anyone. I only—" He turned to look at the American, horror now on his face. "Oh my god, John, I'm so sorry, I never meant—" 

"Rodney?" The other two women had returned from the dance floor, undoubtedly in time to hear part of Rodney's confession. "You don't want me?" 

"John—Jennifer—I'm so—You!" Rodney stood up as much as the booth allowed, shaking a finger in Lucifer's face. "How did you make me—" 

"I didn't make you do anything, Rodney. You only said what you've been wanting to say. Well, for years it sounds like." 

Jennifer leaned over Ronon, grabbing at a small handbag on the seat. "I'm leaving now. No, Rodney, don't." She stormed out, indignation in every line of her body. Pity. She was rather lovely but way too easily offended. 

"I'll make sure she's okay," the other woman who had been dancing said, following after her. 

"Thank you, Amelia," the seated woman said, even though both women were out of hearing already. 

The blow was unexpected, the firm punch landing squarely on Lucifer's jaw. His head snapped to one side, before glancing at John, now standing up, and looking ready to hit him again. "Ow," Lucifer said, rubbing at his cheek. "That hurt." 

John looked murderous, and Lucifer could believe that both he and Ronon could kill Wraith without remorse. "What was that, hypnosis?" 

"I told you, people are honest around me. It's not my fault when other people don't like it. Honesty is good for the soul, I understand." At least, Amenadiel and the other non-fallen angels had told him that, though Lucifer never quite believed it. Honesty could be one of the most destructive forces on the planet.

"John, please." Rodney had scooted out and was standing by John. "I never meant—you must know I wouldn't—you're my best friend, John. Please forgive me." 

"Rodney." John's hand reached out, wavered in the air for a second, then settled on Rodney's arm, gripping his bicep. "We should talk." 

Rodney's head bobbed, his expression nervous and uncertain. 

"You guys can get back to the hotel?" John asked his two friends, who nodded. "We won't be back here," he added to Lucifer. 

"Well, you're certainly welcome. I won't even ask you to apologize for the punch. I like when humans lose control of their emotions. Keeps things lively." 

The glare that John sent Lucifer…well, if Lucifer wasn't immortal, he might have been concerned. As it was, Lucifer found it delicious, the way John was so fiercely protective of his Rodney, one of his hands dropping to the small of his back as they walked out of the nightclub. 

"I believe we also will leave," the woman said. Ronon stood, only an inch or so taller than Lucifer, but with an intimidating air as he glared at Lucifer while the woman scooted out of the booth. 

The implied threat amused Lucifer, and he smiled, brushing the backs of his fingers against Ronon's cheek. Ronon jerked away from him, but the touch was enough. "You're one of my father's other creations. Strange, I didn't know you had reached this planet." 

"I don't know what you mean," Ronon said, but the woman pushed him toward the door, encouraging him to walk away. 

"I only asked Rodney to tell me what he desired," Lucifer defended himself. "How John handles that information is not my fault." The woman shot an undecipherable look back at him, making Lucifer wonder if she'd figured out Rodney's desire, and thought the revelation had been a good one. Not that she'd admit that to him, of course. Those four would stick together. 

The now empty booth might have worried another nightclub owner. He'd been stiffed out of six drinks and two appetizers, and another round of drinks if Maze already had them made. But Lucifer was the fallen angel, and had little concern about money. 

He waited a few moments, then went outside. Jennifer and Amelia had apparently failed to find a taxi quickly, as they were now waiting with the other woman and Ronon at the taxi stand, Jennifer talking loudly and quickly in her agitation. 

Lucifer stayed in the shadows by the doorway, not drawing their attention, until they all piled into one taxi. He breathed deeply. Where was it? Where had John and Rodney gone? Yes, there, the sweet, musky smell of repressed homosexuality breaking free. Quietly, he strolled down the outside of the club, stopping close to the alleyway between his building and the next. The panting, gasping breaths of two men, wet, smacking sounds of lips meeting, and the slight swish of clothes brushing against each other, were music to Lucifer's ears. 

"You're not mad?" Rodney asked, before giving a low moan. 

"Only that you didn't tell me years ago." 

"You didn't tell me," Rodney protested. 

"Rodney, shut up," John ordered, and then the sound of a zipper, and oh, John was a generous and impatient lover, wasn't he? Because that was definitely Rodney's voice making those high-pitched whines. Lucifer strolled back to his club, fondly remembering other blowjobs in alleys, both as the giver and the receiver. 

Repression was always bad in Lucifer's opinion, especially sexual repression, and setting the stage so that others would break free was a special pleasure for him. Pissed-off ex-girlfriend was a nice addition, who knew what kind of tantrum she would throw? Lucifer preferred people to enjoy themselves, he was a great advocate of orgasms, but drama of all types was just…fun. Humans, so flawed and frail and excitable. 

Good for John and Rodney though. They could have all kinds of enjoyable sex now that the proverbial dam had burst. Rodney might have years of fantasies that they could be fulfilling, and John had seemed rather keen too. The military aspect might be an issue, and if they were fighting the Wraith, they were definitely military, but John seemed like someone who could work that out. Maybe they'd visit again someday and thank him. He'd done them rather a good deed, even if that hadn't been his intention. Pops almost might be happy with him.

Lucifer strolled back into the club, looking around. Maze caught his eye from the bar, glancing down at the drinks she'd been making. Lucifer gave a shrug, smiling, as he sat on a bar stool. 

"What was that about?" 

"I'm afraid I inadvertently pissed off a young woman and made two men very happy." 

"You made humans happy?" 

"Yes, I think so." Lucifer felt a strange little glow in his chest. Very happy, from the noises in the alley. 

Maze frowned at him. "Why?" 

Her tone made Lucifer feel a bit defensive. After all, no one thought of the devil as someone who caused happiness, not when his role was tempting and punishing. "Did you miss that it was inadvertent?" 

"But you just…left it like that?" 

"I did rather," he said, glancing down at the drinks Maze had started to make, recognizing her specialty cocktail with a healthy measure of Fireball Whiskey. They couldn't serve the drinks now; health inspectors rather disapproved of beverages made for one customer being given to another.

Ignoring Maze's expression of confusion and annoyance, he picked up the cocktail and swung the bar stool around, spreading his legs, surveying the club, as he sipped, appreciating the hot cinnamon taste, the burn of smooth alcohol. 

The night was still young. People were still here, in his environment, dancing and drinking to forget their dreary lives as they chased after the pleasures of the flesh. And he felt…what did he feel? Pride. Pleasure. Happiness. He'd changed human's lives, in a good way, a way that didn't involve selling their souls. By accident. And there wasn't any reason to take it back, no matter that Maze disapproved, because she thought they should focus on punishing the wicked. The combination of emotions about his unexpected impact was strange and confusing but Lucifer…liked it. He liked it a lot. 

What else could he achieve before the club closed for the night? What secrets did other people have to unlock? What other outcomes could he cause? What else could he end up feeling? Lucifer was eager to find out. 

Truly, living among humans was the best vacation ever. 

~ the end ~


End file.
